


That Young Boy Without a Name

by der_tanzer



Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-17
Updated: 2010-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 17:51:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murray's parents come to visit and Cody and Nick learn that even the most cheerfully childlike person can have a rotten childhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Does Murray Have Two Daddies?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catyah](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=catyah).



> Title is from _What's the Matter Here?_ by 10,000 Maniacs.

“I can’t wait for you guys to meet my dad,” Murray said for about the hundredth time that week. His parents were stopping over for two days on their way to Hawaii, and it would be the first time he’d seen them in years. “You’re just going to love him. He’s not just a scientist, like I am. He can do hands on things, too. Fix motors and build things. The whole time I was living at home, we never had a new appliance because he always kept them running so well.” He was grinning hugely as he spoke, but it faded just a bit after those last words, and a shadow crossed his face. He swallowed and smiled again. “I’m all out of clean rags, Cody. Are there more in the locker?”

“Yeah, plenty.”

Murray unfolded himself from the deck where he’d been polishing the lowest brightwork, and scampered inside. Nick and Cody, who were both leaning on the rails as they polished, turned and exchanged a glance.

“He sure is excited about us meeting his parents,” Cody said slowly.

“Yeah. But you notice how he only talks about his dad? He does have a mother, right? He didn’t grow up the title character of _Why Murray Has Two Daddies_ , did he?”

“I think if he did, he’d have mentioned it by now.”

Nick nodded and returned to the tarnished brass as Murray came back out on deck. Cody opened his mouth, but Nick’s quick shake of the head stopped his words. After a moment, Murray started talking again and his friends listened much more closely. But, good detectives as they were, they never caught him mentioning his mother once.

***

Going to bed that night, they tried to figure out how to bring up the subject. Murray was telling them about his father, about the family vacations to museums and archeological digs, as he stripped off his clothes and slid between the sheets. Nick and Cody listened, exchanging questioning glances, waiting for the right time to interrupt. Murray slid over against the wall—it was Cody’s turn to be in the middle—and propped his head up on his hand to go on talking. But Cody climbed over him and pushed him to the center of the bed, taking his place by the wall.

“What’s up?” Murray asked, pausing in his story about the dinosaur excavation in Montana. Cody slipped an arm around him and cuddled him close, kissing his head softly. Nick lay down beside him and put his arm around them both.

“Murray, buddy, we’re wondering about something,” he said slowly.

“Oh? If it’s about how we’re going to hide our—relationship—from my parents, I already thought of that. I’m going to put my old cot back up in the office and we just won’t let them in here at all. Dad won’t be that interested anyway.”

“Well, that wasn’t what we were thinking of, but it’s a good idea,” Cody said. “No, what we were wondering was, uh, what’s the deal with your mom?”

“My mother? What about her?”

“Well, it’s just that that question there is the first time you’ve used the word ‘mother’ since you told us they were coming.”

“Really?” he asked innocently. But that shadow was in his eyes again and he tried to drop his head. Nick caught his chin in one hand and turned Murray’s face toward his.

“Yeah, really,” Nick said. “You do _have_ a mother, right?”

“Yes. Yes, of course, I have a mother. You’re going to meet her tomorrow. What’s the problem?”

“What’s—Murray, what did we just say?”

“Hang on, Nick,” Cody said gently. “Murray, we’re just wondering why you never talk about her. If there’s something we should know. Maybe something we can help you with?”

“No,” Murray said, pulling his chin from Nick’s hand. “She’s just my mother. There’s nothing to tell.”

“Are you sure?” Nick asked, letting his hand fall to Murray’s chest.

“Of course I’m sure. Can we just go to sleep? Their flight’s coming in early.”

“You want to go to sleep?” Cody teased, pressing his half-hard erection against Murray’s back.

“I—I’m a little tired. But I can leave for a few minutes if you guys want to—to—be together.”

“No, buddy, we don’t want you leave. You’re right, we’ll just forget it and go to sleep.” Cody kissed him softly, accepted a slightly more passionate kiss from Nick, and lay back with Murray still cradled in his arms. There was a little more desultory talk, and then Nick fell asleep. Cody stayed awake as long as he could, listening to Murray breathe and hoping he would speak, even if it woke Nick. But eventually he drifted off, leaving Murray to lie awake, staring at the overhead long into the night, secrets drifting behind his eyes.

***

The car would be crowded, so Cody drove Murray to the airport while Nick stayed home to make lunch. Murray was nervous, fidgeting more than usual, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet as they watched the passengers troop off the jetway. Cody put his arm around him, trying to settle him down, and Murray gave him an appreciative glance but didn’t stop. Finally, near the end of the pack of passengers, he saw a familiar tall figure and went still.

“There’s my dad,” he whispered. Cody knew instantly who he meant. A tall, thin man with Murray’s unruly hair and deep brown eyes behind wire rimmed glasses was coming toward them, leading a shorter, heavyset woman by one arm. She was talking a mile a minute and the other passengers were giving her wide berth, but her words didn’t reach them.

As soon as she looked up and saw them, Murray shrugged off Cody’s arm and tried to stiffen his spine. Cody expected him to run to meet them, but he stayed put, his whole body vibrating minutely in a way that couldn’t be seen but could be felt—sensed, really—from five inches away. As soon as his mother’s voice reached them, Cody understood why.

“I’ve never seen such rude stewardesses in my life. In all our years of flying, I have _never_ been refused service before. Give a skinny little tramp a uniform and a name tag and suddenly she thinks she has authority over me. She probably has crabs the size of your hand, is what she has.”

Murray swallowed hard and Cody shot him a sidelong glance, saw how he was blushing, and wished he hadn’t come along. This wasn’t going to be a reunion for witnesses.

“Murray, there you are,” she called from thirty feet away. “We’ve been looking all over for you. Were you late?”

“Didn’t their plane _just_ land?” Cody whispered. Murray nodded but said nothing.

When they were within civil speaking range, Murray stepped forward and hugged his mother.

“I’m so glad you made it. I’ve really missed you.”

“I could tell by the number of phone calls and visits,” she said, pushing him away. “Get off me, Murray. It’s too damned hot for hugging. Is it like this everywhere, or is it just this airport that’s never heard of air conditioning?”

“Summer in Southern California,” Cody said with a charming grin. “Hi, I’m Cody Allen.”

“Right, I’m sorry. Cody, these are my parents, Mark and Donna Bozinsky. Mother, Daddy, this is my partner—well, one of my partners.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mark said, shaking his hand. Donna gave him a critical look up and down, taking in his white pants and salmon colored shirt, and touched his hand lightly as if fearing some kind of contamination. Then Mark stepped forward and hugged his son tightly, drawing an admiring smile from Cody and a frown from Donna. The frown deepened the longer the embrace lasted, and by the time Murray noticed, her face was a carved mask of disapproval. He pulled away too fast and asked if they had checked luggage.

“No, of course not. We’re traveling to Hawaii with two carry-ons,” she snapped.

“I’m sorry, that was stupid,” he said, blushing again. “We’ll go get the bags.”

“No, no, you two stay here and catch up,” she said harshly. “I’ll go get the bags and find the car. Hell, I may as well drive myself home, wherever that is.”

“Donna, honey, we’re getting the bags. Murray, are we staying with you kids on the boat?”

“No,” he said quickly. “It’s—there’s really not enough room. I got you a room at the _King’s Head_. It’s a great hotel. You’ll love it.”

“You always were the authority on what I love,” she said venomously. “Murray, haven’t you learned to dress yourself yet? You look like a ragman from the seventies.”

His throat worked for a few seconds but he didn’t open his mouth. Cody clapped him on the back and smiled again, tight and insincere.

“Baggage claim is this way, Mrs. Bozinsky. Here, let me take your carry-on.”

“I don’t suppose Murray’s strong enough to help. He’s always had those skinny little arms, you know. And I’m not joking, honey. You look like someone on that show, _Laugh In_. Cody, can’t you talk him into dressing decently? Or does he not listen to you, either?”

“Mother, I listen to you,” Murray said quietly. “You dressed me all through school, just like this.”

“But that was years ago. Fashions change. Don’t you even look around? What else are those hideous glasses for?”

“Donna, give him a break,” Mark said weakly. “We only just got here. You’ll have two whole days to talk about his clothes.”

“And glasses, and hair. Honestly, Murray, I don’t know if I want to be seen with you.”

He blinked and took a quick breath, keeping his face averted from Cody’s sympathetic eyes. He picked up his mother’s tote bag and turned toward the elevator. His mother always used the elevators when she had a choice, although the escalators were closer. But this time she heaved a great sigh and let him get just far enough away to raise her voice before speaking again.

“Murray, where are you going? Don’t tell me you can’t carry that little bag on an escalator. It’s not like you have to walk or anything.”

This time Cody blushed for him, hating the way the skinny shoulders slumped as he turned back in defeat.

“I thought you didn’t want to be seen with me,” he muttered.

“Well, if you’re going to be that way, then go ahead and take the elevator. I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.” She shouldered her purse and marched off toward the escalators, leaving the men behind.

“Don’t mind her, Murray,” his father said quietly. “Our flight was delayed and they ran out of diabetic snacks, and then the stewardess wouldn’t give her any more wine. That’s all this is. She’s tired and she’s had a little too much wine for this hour of the morning.”

He nodded acceptance and Cody spoke.

“I don’t mean to pry, Mr. Bozinsky, but should she be drinking if she’s diabetic?”

“She isn’t. She just prefers their snacks.”

“Shit,” Cody whispered. He took Mark’s bag, squeezed Murray’s arm in gentle encouragement, and they went after the woman in silence.

***

“What on earth possessed you to buy such an impractical car?” she asked as they loaded their luggage into the back of the Jimmy.

“It’s not mine, it’s Cody’s,” Murray said quickly. “And it’s very practical for the climate, not to mention all the off-road use.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t have a car of your own,” she went on. “Don’t you make most of the money?”

“Well, no, Mother, I—I wouldn’t say _most_ of it. We—we’re partners and we share everything equally.”

“So you put an equal amount of money into someone else’s car, and someone else’s boat? What do you have that they pay for equally?”

“I—I don’t know, Mother. I don’t really keep track. I just know that when I need something, the money’s always there.”

“But not when you need a car.”

He took another deep breath and rubbed his eyes carefully without removing his glasses.

“I don’t need a car. Nick and Cody do most of the errands and they’re better drivers, anyway. When I _do_ want to go somewhere, I can always use one of their cars. There’s no reason to maintain three when we only need two.”

“You always let people take advantage of you, Murray,” she tsked, shaking her head. “For a kid who was supposed to be a genius, you never were very smart.”

Murray flinched, and this time he did take off his glasses, polishing them needlessly on his shirt tail.

“Stop that,” she said, getting into the car. “You always look so sloppy. Can’t you at least tuck in your shirt?”

He knew that wouldn’t look any better, and put his glasses back on without answering. As he went to the back to check on Cody’s progress, he heard her call out, “That’s it, just walk away. You’re just like your father, aren’t you? You don’t like what I say so you just walk off.”

Cody heard her and was watching Mark for a reaction when Murray reached them. But Mark was pretending to have missed her words and merely smiled at his son.

“We’re about ready to go here, I think. Cody was just telling me about the fine fishing hereabouts. You always were quite a fisherman.”

“I do all right. Nick and Cody are better, usually, but I do most of the cooking so it evens out.”

“You still make your grandmother’s fish stew?”

“Every Sunday.”

“That’s my boy.”

Murray was beginning to relax, a real smile replacing the nervous expression he’d worn all day, when his mother shouted back at them.

“Are we going to sit here in this stinking garage all day, or can we _please_ go?”

Murray and Mark both stiffened and Cody cleared his throat.

“We should get going. Nick will have lunch all ready and we’ll be stuck on the freeway somewhere.” He gave Murray a hand into the back of the Jimmy, manfully resisting the urge to kiss him. Murray gave him a look that said he knew and appreciated the sentiment. He would need a lot of kisses tonight, though, and he would get them.

***

Donna kept up a running commentary for the first few miles—about the heat, the smog and the wind in her hair—and then sank into a sulky silence when she didn’t get the answers she wanted. Murray was glad in a way, because it was embarrassing to have her expose her pettiness to Cody like that, but he knew that he and his father would pay. Even Cody was probably only spared for the time being.

They stopped at the hotel to drop of the Bozinsky’s luggage, and Donna made some remarks about needing a shower already. Murray reminded her very gently that people were waiting, and she gave in quickly, but with an air of great sacrifice. Something else he would have to pay for later.

The pier was only five minutes away and Murray was prepared for things to get better when they arrived home. He held his mother’s arm on the gangway, letting Cody follow with his father. Nick was on the fantail grilling steaks to go with the food already prepared and laid out in the salon, and he called a cheery greeting when he saw them. Murray waved back, starting to grin, and then caught sight of his mother’s disapproving expression. He led her up the steps to the rail where Nick met them and offered Donna a hand. She took it, granting him a sweeter smile than she’d seen fit to bestow on anyone so far today. But when Nick let her go to put his arm around Murray’s waist and swing him over, that hardened mask covered her face again.

“Still clumsy as ever, aren’t you?” she asked dryly. “And you live on a boat? I’m surprised they don’t make you wear a lifejacket.”

Nick did a double take and Murray stepped away from him so quickly that he tripped over his own feet and Nick had to catch him again.

“Did a big wave just come up?” she asked innocently.

“Would you like to go inside and sit down, Mother?”

“Anything to get out of this sun. I don’t suppose you have a/c in there?”

“Well, no, but it’s shady. And I can get you something cold to drink. We have—ah—lemonade, or Pepsi. I think there’s even some apple juice.” He took her into the salon and everyone noticed how his father stayed over by the rail, not going along or joining Nick and Cody by the grill.

“How’d it go at the airport?” Nick whispered, edging around so his back was to the older man.

“I—I gotta tell you, buddy, that bitch is the ace of spades. I don’t know how Murray turned out like he did with her raising him.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse. But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get to see for yourself. All I can really say is if she was my mom, I wouldn’t admit it, either.”

“How about his dad?”

“He’s okay. Unlucky as hell, but a decent guy. So far as I can tell.” Cody put on a bright smile and turned around. “I was just conferring with my esteemed colleague about the steaks here, Mr. Bozinsky. Can I get you a beer or something?”

“Yes, that’d be good. Mind if I have a seat?” he added, gesturing toward the cushioned bench.

“Sure, sure,” Cody said, pulling a bottle from the cooler and handing it to him as he approached.

“Murray’s been really excited about seeing you,” Nick said. “It’s all he’s talked about the last few days.”

“Yes, we don’t get together often enough. His mother doesn’t like to travel much, and I know you can’t really spare him around here. He—he likes being a private detective, doesn’t he?”

“So far as we can tell,” Nick said dryly. Cody smiled and opened a beer of his own.

“He does. But you know Murray, he gets excited about everything. I think he’d be happy just about anywhere that he could use his talents.”

“And had friends,” Nick added.

“He’s always been pretty lucky in his friends,” Mark said. “I’ve never known him to have many, but they’re usually loyal.”

“Well, he’s a good guy,” Cody said. “He deserves the best.”

“Yes, I always thought so. I—Murray’s happy here, isn’t he? We don’t talk often, but when we do, he just can’t say enough about the two of you.”

“Mostly good, I hope,” Nick said.

“Oh, yes. I admit, I was very surprised when he told me he’d left DynaGame to be a PI in a port town I’d never even heard of. The bigger surprise was you two.”

“Yeah?” Nick said with some interest. “What about us?”

“He told us about you years ago, when you first saved him from going to prison. We were pretty upset about that whole thing, as you can imagine, and the idea that two total strangers, MPs even, worked so hard to get him off—well, it surprised us.”

Nick and Cody exchanged a glance at the phrase worked so hard to get him off, remembering that night in the hotel in New Orleans, and barely kept their laughter in check.

“Well, sir,” Cody said, after clearing his throat a couple of times, “that’s the thing about Murray. Once you get to know him, he’s almost impossible not to like. And we just couldn’t see an innocent little guy like him going to Leavenworth. Not for such a justifiable action.”

“Not everybody likes him, though. Do they?” Nick said with forced casualness. “There are people who have kind a problem with his level of—enthusiasm.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Mark agreed and took a long drink from his bottle. “We tried to train it out of him a little when he was young, tried to calm him down some, but it never worked. His brain just runs too fast, and the rest of him is frantic to keep up.”

“Yeah, that’s been our experience,” Cody said noncommittally.

“He tells me that you boys are—tolerant.”

“Tolerant?” Nick exploded, slamming down his barbeque fork. “Listen, mister, you may be his father, but it doesn’t sound like you know—”

“Nick, stop it,” Cody hissed, jerking his arm to get his attention. “This isn’t what Murray wants.”

“Come on, man, are you listening to this? Murray’s a good guy—a great guy, even—and he happens to be one of my best friends. He’s not some puppy that wets on the rug for us to be _tolerant_ of.”

“No, I know that,” Mark said quickly. “He _is_ a great guy. Even if he wasn’t my son, I’d like to be his friend. And I’m very glad that he has friends who think so highly of him. He—he needs the support.” 

Nick looked ready to shout again and Cody squeezed his arm warningly.

“Everybody needs friends,” he said simply. “Nick, how’re those steaks coming?”

“Couple more minutes,” was the truculent response. It was going to get awkward very soon, but Donna forestalled that awkwardness by replacing it with another.

“Mark, are you going to stay out there all day?” she shouted from the salon. Her husband winced in a way that made them think he did it often, and rose as if she’d pulled on a leash.

“Well, I did come to spend time with Murray,” he said apologetically. “Unless you need help with anything here.”

“No, no, we’ve got it covered,” Cody said. “Here, take another beer. We’ll be along in a minute with the steaks.”

“Thanks.” He took the bottle and went inside. Nick and Cody heard raised voices but couldn’t make out the words. It was definitely Donna yelling, but they weren’t sure at whom.

“Are we stalling here?” Cody murmured, watching Nick turn the steaks.

“I’m not stalling, I’m cooking.”

“Well, we all like medium rare and you’re already up to well done.”

“Shit.”

“Come on, buddy. We can’t let Murray roast in there alone.”

So Nick put the steaks on a plate, Cody picked up the cooler, and they went inside.

***

“There’s something wrong with this potato salad,” Donna said, picking fretfully at her plate.

“It’s macaroni salad,” Nick told her.

“It’s not right. There’s something missing.”

“Yeah, potatoes,” he said dryly.

“It’s macaroni salad, Mother. I made it myself.”

“Well, it’s not my recipe. And who made these rolls?”

“Mama Jo. She runs the sailing charter,” Murray said with a fond smile. “She can’t accept that we’re all adults and can do our own cooking.”

“Some tramp chasing after you with baked goods? California women have no class.”

“Mama Jo’s no tramp,” Nick said shortly.

“She’s about your age,” Murray added. “Maybe a little older. Not really my type.”

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t hers. And what the hell is wrong with this potato salad?”

“ _Macaroni_ ,” Nick said, sharply enough for Cody to kick him under the table.

“So, why don’t you tell us about your work, son? Any interesting cases lately?”

“I still don’t understand what you’re doing here,” Donna interrupted. “Have you really sunk this low? Peeking in windows and taking snapshots of adulterers? Why’d we send you to MIT if you weren’t going to work with computers?”

“I _do_ work with computers,” he said quietly. “My ability to do research, access public records, and do a little bit of undercover snooping has really been beneficial to the agency. Additionally, I still design programs and hardware, and next term I’m doing a lecture series at Cal Tech. I’m very excited about it. The class is already full and I have quite a rousing set of lectures ready.”

“So you’re a part time teacher now? Honestly, Murray, who would pay _you_ to teach college students? You’re a professional peeping tom, for heaven’s sake.”

“Cal Tech would,” he whispered, staring at his plate. “They were very glad to have me.”

“Enrollment must be way down these days. Is there any jam for these rolls?”

“I’ll get it,” Murray said, standing up so quickly he hit the edge of the table and made their glasses rock. Cody’s beer bottle would have fallen but Nick caught it just in time.

“Can’t you be more careful?” she called after him as he scurried away. “He always was the clumsiest boy. I’m surprised your boat is still afloat, Cody, if he’s been living here more than a week.”

Cody blinked, stroking Nick’s thigh soothingly under the table in lieu of kicking him again, while Mark picked at his macaroni salad. He felt guilty about eating it, but it was very good. Murray brought strawberry jam, which was all he’d ever known his mother to use, only to have her sneer and ask if they didn’t have blackberry, or even raspberry. There was raspberry, and he carried the jar back up to the salon, being extremely careful, as if it were a Faberge egg. After three hours with his mother, tripping on the stairs or dropping a jar felt like a capital offence.

She spread the jam on her roll and ate it, complaining all the while about the seeds.

***

As soon as she’d finished eating, Donna announced that she was getting a migraine and needed to go back to the hotel. Cody said he’d drive her, but when Mark offered to go along, she told him no, he was having fun and ought to stay. Her expression said that by staying, he was being selfish, but she didn’t want him to go, either. Murray understood that she wanted to be neglected so she’d have another reason to be angry and told his father that he’d like him to stay. So Cody drove Donna back to the _King’s Head_ , enduring her accusations of being drunk and a dangerous driver, and then walked her to her room so she could show off her handsome young companion.

When he got back to the boat everyone was on deck watching the waves and talking about the agency’s most recent case, a young woman who wanted to be reunited with her best friend from grade school. Nick was telling Mark how quickly they’d found the other woman, with just a quick DMV search of the Western states. Murray, humbled by the weight of so much recent criticism, said nothing.

“Oh, yeah, that was a great one,” Cody said, sitting down between Murray and Nick and putting his arm on the back of the bench so it just brushed Murray’s back. Murray leaned into it subtly for just a second and then leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “We’ve seen Boz do some really impressive things with his computer searches, but finding that girl in half an hour was something else.”

“And the reunion was really sweet,” Nick added. “We hardly ever get to make people happy like that, you know. Usually it’s helping to bust criminals or find out things about people that their loved ones don’t _really_ want to know.”

“Sounds like you do good work, Murray. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” he said quietly. “I—I really enjoy what I do. The programming and the agency and the teaching, it’s a lot of work but I like that. I’ve always liked having a lot of projects going at once.”

“And you didn’t even mention the writing,” Cody said. “Or the Roboz. Your mom might have been impressed with him.”

“I doubt it,” he said simply, but his father looked interested.

“What are you writing? And what’s a Roboz?”

“Oh, I’m doing a basic Apple programming textbook for the California school system. Well, hopefully. They’ll have to have it approved when it’s done, but I’m sure they will. They approached me specifically to write it; I didn’t even have to submit a proposal.”

“Well, that’s great,” Mark said, genuinely pleased.

“It really is. I want to get some new equipment, upgrade my core server, and the _Riptide_ needs an engine overhaul. One good book ought to cover it.”

“You—you’re going to pay for the engine?” he asked and everyone tensed.

“Well, I _do_ live here, Daddy. It’s in my best interest to maintain the boat, too.”

“But are you secure here? Do you own an interest?”

“Murray lives here,” Nick said tersely. “He doesn’t need a piece of paper to say he can stay as long as he wants.”

Murray gave him a weak, grateful smile and Mark backed off.

“So what’s the Roboz? Is that one of your robotics experiments?”

“Yes, he’s my nearest approach to artificial intelligence. He’s very sophisticated, really.” Murray’s face brightened a little as he began explaining it to his father, and after a few minutes, they went inside to look at the Roboz in person. He was down in the office and Mark soon became distracted by other bits of equipment and half-done projects. Gradually, Murray relaxed and after an hour or so, had completely forgotten his mother.

***

At a little past six Donna was at the pier again, demanding that Murray pay for her cab. She was angry at being left alone for so long, as if it hadn’t been her idea, and wanted it made up to her. Murray suggested they go out for dinner, but she rejected all of his suggestions of a place. They ended up at _Straightaway’s_ , which she referred to as a smoky bar, and where she turned up her nose at the waitresses and the menu. But she did order more wine, and a salad which she picked at without much interest.

“Don’t you want something more—substantial?” Murray asked when everyone else ordered hamburgers and fish filets.

“No, Murray, I’m not really feeling that well. Which you’d already know if you cared enough to ask.”

He had asked, more than once, but he knew better than to remind her of that. When she started stealing his French fries, he pushed the rest of them onto her salad plate and stifled a sigh when she suddenly refused to eat any more. Nick, recognizing from the longing look in his eyes that he was still hungry, offered Murray his coleslaw, but Donna opened her mouth and he quickly said no. She was either going to call him greedy, or say that she wanted some slaw, too, and he wasn’t hungry enough to risk it.

Cody took his cue and asked if anyone wanted dessert. Nick appeared cautiously optimistic and Murray’s face brightened almost imperceptibly, but his father spoiled it this time by saying that was a good idea.

“That’s the last thing you need, Mark. You’re going to need a whole new wardrobe if you keep gaining weight like this, and we can’t afford it. Not on your salary.”

Cody’s eyebrows went up, Nick’s eyes narrowed, and Murray took off his glasses to rub his face and try to hide his embarrassment. His father was too thin, anyone could see it, and anyone who’d ever wondered why need only share a meal with his wife.

“What would you like to do this evening, Mrs. Bozinsky?” This came from Cody, always the first to recover himself in social settings, and normally it would have been the right thing to say. But Donna ignored him and turned a spiteful glare first on her husband and then her son, as if asking why they weren’t more concerned with her pleasure than was this total stranger.

“Yes, Mother,” Murray said, putting his glasses back on quickly. She frowned and he hurried on. “Would you like to go to a movie? _What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?_ is playing at the Bijou. Isn't that one of your favorites?”

“It’s all right. If that’s what you all want to do, it’s fine by me.”

“Hey, Murray,” Nick said before anyone else could speak. “Would you like to spend some time alone with your folks? Because we’d be happy to walk home and you could take the car.”

Murray bit his lip, his eyes seeking his father’s for advice. On the one hand, there was nothing he’d like better than to spare himself the embarrassment of his lovers seeing his mother endlessly run him down, but on the other hand, she did it a lot less when they were present. Mark met his eyes and nodded subtly.

“Yes, that’d be nice, Nick. Thank you.”

“You wouldn’t have to thank him if you had a car of your own,” Donna remarked to no one in particular. “When does this movie start?”

“Twenty minutes,” Murray said promptly. He’d checked yesterday, just in case.

“I’d better go to the restroom, then. Mark, go wash your hands. You’re a mess. Or haven’t you noticed?”

“Yes, dear.” They left the table together and Murray stole back a cold fry from his mother’s plate with all the subterfuge of a child sneaking cookies before dinner.

“Are you going to be okay?” Cody whispered.

“Yes, sure. I’m fine. Why?”

“Why?” Nick repeated, amazed. “Murray, that woman’s—”

“My mother,” he interrupted. “She’s not going to hurt me, Nick. You act like she’s dangerous or something.”

“Murray, man, wake up.”

“Nick, stop it,” Cody said, low and firm. “Let’s pay the bill and go home. This is none of our business.”

“ _Murray_ is our business,” Nick shot back, and this time it was Murray who kicked him under the table. His mother was returning and she mustn’t hear any of this. The three men composed themselves and were all smiling, expecting her to sit down and wait for her husband. But after she’d stood for thirty seconds and sighed five times, they all leapt to their feet.

“We can go wait in the car, Mother,” Murray said quickly. “Daddy will be right out.”

She appeared indecisive, looking him up and down as if there would be signs of a lie on his body. Then she shook her head and picked up her purse.

“I'm glad we’re going to a movie,” she said at last. “I don’t think I could be seen with you in a well-lit place.”

Murray flinched and looked down at himself, as if he’d forgotten what he was wearing. The pants were his, black slacks that Cody had talked him into getting for one of his speaking engagements, paired with one of Nick’s light blue shirts with the sleeves rolled halfway up to his elbows to conceal the fact that they were too short. He wasn’t even carrying a pocket protector, and his friends had assured him that he looked good.

“I—I’m sorry, Mother. I really tried this time, for your sake.”

“If you really tried to tuck in your shirt and failed this miserably, I don’t see why we sent you to college at all.”

By now, people were watching them from neighboring tables, and Murray recognized a recent client and a couple from his church.

“Let’s go out to the car,” he said, reaching for her arm.

“You didn’t wash your hands, did you? Honestly, Murray, don’t touch me with your fingers all greasy like that.” She turned and swept out of the restaurant before he even remembered how to move his feet.

Cody grabbed his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Tell you what, Boz,” he whispered. “If you want to tie her up in the Jimmy and push it off a cliff, I’d understand completely.”

“Yeah, I’ll help,” Nick said, patting his shoulder.

“Thanks, guys, but I’ll be fine. It’s nothing that I—I mean, it’s nothing. She just hates to travel, and she had that headache all day. We’ll go to the movie and it’ll be fine.”

Nick and Cody both hugged him, maybe a little too hard, a little too long, but their neighbors wouldn’t think twice about that. Mark did, catching sight of them as he left the restroom, having killed as much time as reasonably possible. It crossed his mind that it was a little strange, but then he decided Murray had been having such a hard time of it, maybe extra comfort from his closest friends was in order. He hung back until Nick and Cody walked away, heading to the bar to pay the bill, and then caught up with his son.

“Where’s your mother?”

“In the car. She got tired of waiting in here.”

“Of course. That was a good idea you had, about the movie. She adores _Baby Jane_.”

“I know. I really want her to have a good time, Daddy. It’s only another twenty-four hours and she hasn’t enjoyed herself yet.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m enjoying it.”

“Yes, it is. I’m so glad you could be here and finally meet the guys. I just wish you could spend more time getting to know them. It’s a shame you just have one more day.”

“Maybe we can do something tomorrow before we go to the airport. You know how your mother loves the big shopping malls. There must be at least one good one in L.A.”

“Absolutely. I’ll even let her pick out clothes for me if she wants to. Anything to make her happy.”

The midevening heat rose up off the tarmac of the parking lot and nearly flattened them as they stepped outside. Nick and Cody were visible in the near distance, heading toward the pier, while Donna stood perspiring by the Jimmy. The doors were unlocked and there was no reason for her not to be sitting inside, except that any bit of comfort would be one less thing she could hold over the men in her family.

The movie theater was cool and uncrowded, perfect for Donna and her headache. Murray bought her a diet Mountain Dew and a box of M&Ms, and let her pick the seats. She sat between Murray and Mark, telling them that otherwise they would talk all the way through the film and ruin it for her, but she was the one who did the talking. Her commentary included her opinions of Joan Crawford and Bette Davis as people and as actresses, her feelings on Christina Crawford and the publication of _Mommy Dearest_ , and how _Baby Jane_ compared to the other works of Henry Farrell. Murray had read and enjoyed _How Awful About Allan_ , but he didn’t care for the movie version. He had the bad judgment to indicate as much to his mother by injudicious nods and shrugs, along with one very poorly timed _hmm_ , and Donna, who never read a book if she could watch the movie instead, was immediately put out.

But she concealed the fact until the climax was really building, beginning to shift in her seat and rub her temples as Blanche took the phone of the hook and left the house. Her fidgeting grew worse and worse until Murray began to fidget, too. Then, as Blanche was dragging Jane out to the car in the dead of night, Donna slapped Murray’s hands and told him to hold still. He froze, and then she was standing up.

“I can’t sit here with you squirming around like that. I’ve totally lost the thread of the plot now.”

“Mother, wait,” he said hopelessly, rising to try and catch her. She dropped her half-empty cup on the floor, splashing Murray’s pants with Mountain Dew. He stepped on the cup and lost his balance, the fight to stay upright lasting just long enough to let her get away. Then his father was beside him, making small consoling sounds.

“How could she have lost the thread?” Murray asked pointlessly. “She’s seen it a dozen times. This is the best part.”

“I know. Let’s just catch up before she decides to leave us here.”

***

“Hey, you’re home,” Cody called cheerfully as Murray let himself in through the salon door. “How was the movie?”

“Good. Mother still had a bit of a headache, though, so we left early.”

“That’s too bad,” Nick said from his place in front of the TV. “You look pretty tired, though, so maybe it’s for the best.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve all seen it before anyway. And there’s some stuff I want to do on the computer tonight, too. I just need to change my clothes.” He turned and started down to the stern cabin, missing the look that passed between his friends. He’d taken off his pants and Nick’s shirt and was pulling on his softest, most worn jeans when they reached him.

“Murray, buddy, do you need to work tonight?” Cody asked, stepping up behind him and slipping his arms around Murray’s naked waist.

“I’m a little behind, with all the planning and preparations, and then being out all day. And, really, I think I’m too tired to sleep now, anyway. But you two go ahead if you’re tired.”

“We’re not tired,” Nick said sharply. Murray looked like he’d been slapped and Nick bit the inside of his cheek until it bled. Cody took over, kissing Murray’s neck softly and making him sigh with pleasure.

“We just want to talk to you, babe,” he whispered, his breath tickling Murray’s ear.

“Can it wait?” Murray asked, not making any attempt to get away.

“We’d rather not,” Nick said, reaching for his hand. “Sit down, okay?”

Confused, Murray let Cody guide him over to the bed and sit down with him. Nick sat on his other side, still holding his hand, and Murray had the sudden overwhelming feeling that they were about to break up with him.

“What’s wrong, guys? You—you’re scaring me.”

“Well, we’re a little bit scared, too,” Cody said.

“I—I don’t understand,” he whispered, his wide eyes shifting from one to the other. “Did I do something wrong? What—what’s going on?”

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Nick said, and when Murray turned to Cody, he nodded confirmation. “But we’re worried about your mother.”

“My—my mother? Why? I told you, she just has a headache. It happens all the time.”

“I’ll bet it does,” Nick said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

“Murray, we’re not really worried about _her_ , so much as we are the way she treats you,” Cody broke in. “What’s the deal with that?”

“She—she treats me—just fine,” he said, his tone hardening as his body grew stiff.

“No, she doesn’t,” Nick exploded, letting go and leaping to his feet. “Jesus, Boz, when we were MPs, we were nicer to convicted murderers. I don’t understand why you’re putting up with it, and I’m not going to sit here and let you defend her.”

“Then don’t!” Murray shouted back. He wrenched away from Cody’s friendly embrace and snatched up a t-shirt from the communal dresser. “I told you, I have work to do, and I don’t want to talk about my mother. It’s none of your business, anyway.”

“Don’t give me that,” Nick said, tempering himself a little in hopes that Murray wouldn’t flee. “Just—just let us help you.”

“How?” he asked, the anger suddenly gone. His voice was small and broken, his eyes those of a puppy who has been kicked over and over and is even now seeing the foot draw back again. “What can you possibly do?”

Nick seemed to deflate and looked to Cody for help. In that instant, Murray turned and ran.

“Let him go,” Cody said softly. “Let’s wait until this is all over and then we’ll see what we can do. There’s no point in tearing him open tonight when he’s still going to see her again tomorrow.”

“Shit. How could we have known Murray all these years and never known about his family?” Nick sighed, sinking down onto the bed. “We live with him, work with him, sleep with him—two days ago I would have said I knew everything about the guy.”

“Yeah, I know. After everything we’ve been through together, fighting back to back, loving face to face, you get the idea he can’t have any secrets. But, you know, he never was exactly normal. I assumed it was being so scary smart that kept him from fitting in. It never occurred to me his folks might not have been supportive.”

“His dad seems to be,” Nick said. “Except when that woman’s in the room. Can you imagine not protecting your kids from that? I mean, he seems like a nice guy, but I still wanna hit him.”

“Well, let’s save that for a last resort. You want to go to bed, Nick? See if we can get some sleep?”

“In a minute. I think I’m going to go check on him real quick.”

Cody opened his mouth to protest and Nick held up one hand.

“I won’t say anything, I promise. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

Nick went to the galley and cut a piece of the pie they’d had at lunch. He put it on a plate, added some whipped cream, poured a glass of milk, and carried it all to the office that was once Murray’s room. He knocked on the door, then pushed it open without waiting for a response.

“Hey, Boz. You didn’t get to finish your supper, so I thought you’d like some dessert.”

“Yeah, Nick, I appreciate your concern but I’m not going to talk about it,” he said without looking up. Nick set the chocolate pie beside Murray’s keyboard and gripped his bony shoulder with one strong hand.

“I’m not asking you anything. I just don’t want to see you get any thinner. You won’t stay up too late, will you?”

Murray took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and leaned his head back against Nick’s chest.

“I’ll come to bed when I get tired. And I’ll do my best not to wake you, I promise.”

“Maybe I want you to wake me. I like it when you sneak in all sleepy and chilled, too tired to put on your pajamas, and snuggle up against me. Makes me feel like I’m protecting you.”

“You’ve been protecting me since the day we met, Nick, and I appreciate it. But I really just want to be alone right now. Thank you for the pie, though,” he remembered to add. Murray was nothing if not polite.

“All right. I won’t wait up then, but do me a favor. When you do come to bed, skip the pajamas, okay? I don’t know about you, but I could use a snuggle.”

“I’ll remember that. Goodnight, Nick,” he said, leaning toward his desk again.

“Goodnight, babe. Don’t stay up too long.” He bent and kissed Murray softly on the mouth, cupping his cheek in one hand. For just a second, Murray thought about going with him. But it was too soon. Nick and Cody would be too much awake, still wanting to talk, and he just wasn’t ready yet. Maybe he never would be.

Murray stayed up until almost four, until he couldn’t focus his eyes anymore, and then went to the cabin where his lovers slept. He undressed in the dark, being as quiet as he could, and slipped into bed in his boxers. Nick stirred sleepily and flung his arm around Murray’s waist, nuzzling the back of his neck without really waking. Murray sighed and closed his eyes. He wouldn’t really sleep, but it was good to be lying down, warm and safe in the arms of one who always protected him, whether he deserved it or not. And tonight he wasn’t sure he deserved even this much.

***

After lying awake for three hours, Murray rose and showered without disturbing his friends. He was dressing when they finally woke, and he asked Cody if he could borrow the Jimmy to take his parents to breakfast.

“Breakfast? Isn’t it a little early for—?”

Nick nudged him sharply and he cleared his throat.

“—early for breakfast?” Cody finished lamely.

“We’re just going to have something really quick, and then they’re going back to the hotel to pack. I said we’d spend the day in L.A. before I drop them at the airport.”

“Think you can handle that, Boz?” Cody asked. “The driving, I mean. You weren’t so sure about it when you were picking them up.”

“Yes, well, I was worried about being late meeting the plane. But I think I can manage to get there all right, since we’ll be in town anyway. If you don’t mind me keeping the car that long.”

“No, go right ahead. I’m gonna hit the shower. Nick, you want to put the coffee on?”

Murray understood that they were making it easy for him, not talking about his parents or bringing up last night’s argument, and he was grateful. He finished dressing carefully, putting on his best jeans and one of Cody’s white shirts with the fine silver threads. He thought it looked silly with his taped glasses and unkempt hair, but Cody insisted it was quite fashionable. All he needed was a jacket, and Cody handed him a black one that took him from fashionable to beautiful in one quick step.

“There you go, babe. No one with any sense can find fault with you now.”

Murray smiled weakly, getting what he meant but unwilling to accept it.

“Thanks, Cody. I—I better get going. I won’t be long, I don’t think.”

“Take as long as you need. I love you, Boz.”

“I know, Cody. I love you, too.” They kissed once more and left the cabin together, Cody stopping at the head and Murray going on up to the salon to call goodbye to Nick down in the galley.

He hurried off the boat, stumbling a little over the railing as he always did, and made his way up to the car. It was tempting to drag his feet and drive slowly, putting off the inevitable moment of seeing his mother again, but that would only cause more trouble.

He knocked on the door of their hotel room on the dot of eight, fidgeting with his hands in his pockets until his father opened it.

“Good morning, Murray. Your mother’s still in the shower. She got off to a late start this morning.”

“Oh. Should I wait downstairs, then?”

Mark seemed to think that over, weighing all of the possible outcomes, before shaking his head.

“Better stay here so she won’t think you’re late,” he said and went to the bathroom door. Knocking loudly, he called, “Donna, honey, Murray’s here.”

“God damn it,” she shouted back. “Why is that little bastard always early? I’d swear he plans his life around inconveniencing me, if I thought he was smart enough to plan ahead at all.”

“Honey, he’s not early. We said eight, remember?” It was only the door between them that gave him the courage to correct her, and Murray, still standing on the other side of the room, thought miserably that he would regret it later. Hopefully when they were alone, but probably not. Probably everyone would be going down over this one.

The bathroom door whipped open and Donna stood there, wrapped in a hotel robe, her wet hair still full of shampoo, water streaming onto the floor.

“Well just give me thirty fucking seconds to get dressed, then, because God knows, we can’t keep Murray waiting.” She stepped out into the room and, before Mark could stop her, flung off her robe. Murray turned on his heel and left, closing the door behind him.

Leaning against the wall in the hallway, he rubbed his eyes, dragged his hands through his hair, and tried to slow his hammering heart. Tried not to hear the fight going on inside, with his mother screaming that they had to hurry for the benefit of her self-important, big-shot, asshole son, and his father trying to convince her to at least finish rinsing her hair. When he heard the crash of breaking glass (a lamp? Or maybe a window this time?), followed by the slamming of a door, he abandoned his post and went down to the lobby. That would be wrong somehow, too, but he didn’t care. Nothing he could do would be right, and he needed to sit down.

Breakfast was a nightmare.


	2. The Truth Comes Out

Murray returned to the boat at nine-thirty, looking five years older than when he’d left. He walked down the gangway as slowly as he could, no more eager for the questions that surely awaited than he had been for the breakfast itself. What could he say, really? _She’s my mother. She loves me. She must. All mothers love their kids. Oh, but she hates me, too. She hates me so much and I don’t know why_. That wouldn’t change anything, and it wouldn’t make his lovers think any better of him. All his life, he’d heard people refer to faces, or talents, or personalities that only a mother could love. And all his life he’d wondered why he was so very low, so very much worse than all those people, that even his mother couldn’t love him.

As he climbed over the rail, every bit as clumsy and hopeless as his mother said he was when he dropped his fork at breakfast, he thought about that woman who had been tried last year up in Oregon for shooting her children. Three of them, she had. Three beautiful, adorable little kids, and she’d apparently shot them in her car as they slept, because they didn’t love her the way she wanted them to. And because the married man she’d been having an affair with didn’t want kids. One child was dead, another paralyzed, and the third permanently scarred. Murray had been thinking about his childhood a lot since that story broke, wondering why his mother hadn’t gotten rid of him when he was young and only beginning to disappoint her. Wondering if she ever regretted letting him grow up, and sometimes, late at night, when the guys were asleep and the harbor still, if it wouldn’t have been better for everyone if she hadn’t.

Nick was sitting on the bench in the salon, reading a book with a glass of ice water nearby, and looked up with a smile when Murray came in. _He looks so happy_ , Murray thought. _Like he doesn’t know what a huge embarrassing failure I am. That’s not fair at all_. Suddenly he was on the verge of tears, and when Nick half rose, laying his book aside, Murray flew to him and collapsed in his arms.

“Hey, hey,” Nick whispered, taking off Murray’s glasses and pressing the thin face to his own strong shoulder. He shifted a little, gently pulling Murray’s body half into his lap, and rocked him as he gasped and struggled for breath, fighting not to cry. “Shh, baby, hush, it’s okay,” he soothed, hugging him hard, murmuring nonsense words of comfort that still had the power to heal. Murray burrowed determinedly into his warmth and strength, clinging to Nick’s body with all he had, his skinny arms like wire threatening to cut the bigger man in half. Even after he’d regained control, when he knew he wasn’t going to cry, he cowered there, trembling like a dog in a thunderstorm, needing to be protected from the horrors outside the _Riptide_ ’s hull.

Cody came up from the galley where he’d been cleaning up after breakfast, a cheerful greeting dying on his lips when he saw how Murray shivered, afraid even to raise his head.

“What happened?” he asked quietly, sitting down and putting his arm around Nick so that his chest pressed against Murray’s back.

“I don’t know,” Nick said grimly. “But I can guess.”

Murray tipped his head back, imploring them with his eyes not to say any more, and Cody kissed him, slow and sweet. Murray reached back with one hand, catching Cody by the neck to prolong the kiss. Cody’s arm snaked around his waist, his hand sliding up under Murray’s borrowed shirt to caress his soft belly, while Nick’s hand dropped to his hip, holding him still while Cody tickled him lightly, as he would a kitten’s tummy.

That was where Mark found them a few minutes later, when he opened the door without knocking. Cody looked up at the sound of his sharp gasp, instinctively shielding Murray before he quite knew who it was. Nick’s arms tightened around him, too, and for just a second, Murray couldn’t breathe. Then he turned his head and saw his father standing there, looking as stunned as he felt.

“Murray…”

“Daddy…” He scrambled free of his friends’ embrace and found himself too weak to stand. Nick and Cody got up and disappeared down the aft stairs, nodding to Mark without speaking, prepared to stay close and listen in, but not interfere unless they were needed.

“What—what are you doing here?” Murray asked shakily, putting his glasses back on and self-consciously straightening his clothes.

“Your mother wanted to do the packing by herself. She—uh—she said I’d just screw it up. Murray, I don’t want to pry, but did I really just see what I think I saw?”

“That depends on what you think you saw,” he said, staring at the floor.

“You—and your friends—both of them? All of you…?”

“Don’t tell Mother, please,” Murray whispered without looking up.

“No, no, of course not.” He crossed the narrow beam and sat beside his son, cautiously putting an arm around his slumped shoulders. “Murray—”

“Don’t, Daddy. Please don’t tell me you’re disappointed, or I’m doing something wrong. I can’t take it right now.”

“Can I tell you that I love you? Whatever you do, whoever you do it with, you’re my boy and I love you.”

“I love you, too, Daddy.”

“I know. You—you’re a good boy, Murray. A good son. I wish I was a better father.”

“You’re great,” Murray said, choking a little and finally raising his head.

“No, I’m not. I—I have to ask you one thing. Is this our fault? Mine and your mother’s?”

“Is—is what?”

“The fact that you’ve chosen to—to live with men, instead of getting married and raising a family. Did our example discourage you from dating women?”

“I don’t know if I did exactly choose it. I always had a—an attraction toward men, for as long as I can remember. Nick and Cody were together when I met them and they—they’re very monogamous. But for some reason they took me in and let me be part of their relationship.”

“And it makes you happy?”

“Yes, very. We make a good team, I think.”

“So that’s why you don’t worry about keeping track of the money or owning a share of the boat? You plan on staying together forever?”

“For as long as they’ll have me. I—I just do the best I can and try not to cause too much trouble.”

“Now that is our fault. Honey, you never were half the trouble your mother said you were. You were just—enthusiastic. And adventurous.”

“I burned down the garage.”

“Every inventor worth his salt burns down his parents’ garage at least once.”

Murray chuckled softly, and some of the tension left his body.

“How did you get here? Did you take a cab?”

“No, I walked. It’s a lovely little town.”

“Oh yes. I liked living in LA, all the excitement and the interesting people, but I think this is better. It’s still exciting at times, but it’s peaceful a lot of the time, too. And we go away a lot, out to sea to fish or just get away from everyone. I never knew I’d like the water so much.”

“Growing up in Chicago, all the water you had was that lake with the icy wind coming off it half the year. California’s a big improvement.”

“I wish you could go fishing with us some time. Just fly out for a weekend, maybe.”

“I’d love to, Murray, but you know how your mother is about…”

“Everything. I know. Tell me about work, then. How is the museum?”

“It’s good. Busy, but that’s how we like it.” Mark began telling him the details of the last few months at work, the things that bored Donna to the extent that he was forbidden to speak of them, and Murray listened avidly. This was what he’d been looking forward to since he heard his parents were coming. Nick and Cody had been mystified last night and this morning as to why he’d want to see these people at all, but this was it. Murray simply loved his father, who simply loved him back.

***

They were down in the office looking at the rough draft of Murray’s textbook when Donna called to say she was ready to go. She sounded tired and put upon, worn out by the arduous task of packing a day’s clothes by herself, and Murray promised they’d be right there to pick her up.

“Do you know where you want to go in town?” Murray asked his father as they went up to the salon. Nick and Cody were there, drinking coffee and indicating with their eyes that they hadn’t quite made a decision which Murray wasn’t quite sure he wanted them to make.

“I think your idea about the mall would be best. There’s a lot to see and do, and plenty of places to sit.”

Murray smiled hopefully and his friends saw his whole childhood in that smile—endless attempts to please in the face of inevitable disappointment—as clearly as if they’d known him all his life.

“Are you sure you don’t want help with the driving?” Cody asked, the last thing he had to offer.

“I’m sure. They have to be there for boarding at six-thirty, so I’ll probably be home by nine.”

“All right, buddy. You drive carefully and call us if you get into any trouble.”

“I always do,” he said with a half-sheepish grin. “Don’t worry, guys. We’re going to have a great time.” He hugged them both, kissed them each on the cheek without shame, and asked his father if he looked presentable enough.

“You look great, Murray.”

“But is _great_ good enough?”

Mark smiled and straightened Murray’s collar, unbuttoning the top button for him, and suggesting he tuck in his shirt. He did, but he knew it wasn’t going to help. Tucked shirts didn’t look right on men as skinny as he, and if his mother couldn’t complain about the sloppiness of a hanging shirt tail, she would be sure to pick on that instead.

To everyone else, he looked wonderful. The contrast of white shirt and black jacket was sharp and crisp, his jeans and sneakers keeping it from being too formal, and after Cody got done messing with his hair, he was declared perfect. Murray didn’t buy it for a second. He wasn’t perfect and even his lovers, who adored him beyond all reason, had to know it. _Everyone_ knew it. He’d striven all his life for perfection and never reached it; by now he knew he never would. Not even the Roboz was perfect, and he’d put five years into that so far. The best he could hope for was good enough, and even then he rarely made it. Sometimes he wondered how anyone as smart and honest as his father could miss seeing what a failure he was. But his daddy was a nice guy, so maybe he just chose not to notice.

***

All the way into LA, Donna sat in the front seat of the Jimmy, switching radio stations, complaining about the heat, and fussing at Murray for the way he drove. First too fast, then too slow, and always on the wrong roads, despite the fact that she didn’t know the area at all. It was just a given that whatever road he chose would be the wrong one, and Murray accepted that. He made the best decisions that he could from one moment to the next, always knowing that it would be wrong. The only time he didn’t have these doubts was when he was working on his computers, but he understood those. They were machines, ruled by pure logic. What you put in was what you got out. They were math and science, physics and chemistry, ruled by irrefutable laws and unaffected by human emotions and variables. He could deal with that. He could even excel. It was just when people got involved that he was reminded of what a pathetic waste of carbon he really was.

Against all odds, Murray found his way to the Westside Pavilion Mall, just up the 405 from Redondo. It was brand new, having opened just a few months ago, and he hadn’t seen it yet so he couldn’t really recommend it. But his mother generally liked anything new and different, and if he didn’t have anything good to say about it, then she wouldn’t automatically be on the offensive. Hopefully.

He lucked into a parking space right up front and hurried around the car to open the door for his mother. She gave him a blank stare as he offered her his hand.

“I’m perfectly capable of getting out of the car by myself,” she snapped, slapping him away. She grabbed the top of the door, hissing as the hot metal seared her hand, and managed to twist her ankle in a way so obviously fake that only Murray could have missed it. This time she took his arm, making it clear that not only did he owe her, she was doing him a favor by letting him pay.

Donna outweighed Murray by a good sixty pounds, making her exaggerated limp difficult for him to support. He did his best, though, slowing his steps so she could hobble along, pausing inside the door to let her absorb the air conditioning. It was cool, but the high, domed glass ceilings let in so much light, they might as well have been outside. It was so bright and beautiful, Murray felt like he had walked into a crystal palace. All around them was glass, delicate walkways bridging the upper levels, and plants growing everywhere. Intellectually, Murray knew it was a carefully constructed shell game, designed to manipulate people into spending more than they had on things they didn’t need, but emotionally it spoke to him.

“I can’t believe we came all the way out here for this. Like we don’t have malls at home,” Donna said. “I want to sit down.”

There was a bench between two flowering trees, and he led her over to it without comment. Mark stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders placatingly, but Donna didn’t want to be placated.

“Murray, stop hovering over me. Mark, your hands are all sweaty. Stop touching me.”

Murray sat down beside her, sliding away a bit when she gave him a sideways glance.

“How’s your ankle, Mother? Will it be all right?”

“How would I know? I’m not a doctor,” she snapped. But when she finally got up, she forgot to pretend to limp and they entered the nearest store, full of candles and picture frames. Everything in it was as delicate and ethereal as the building itself and Murray had high hopes.

***

At the airport, Murray kissed his mother quickly and hugged his father long and hard, until Donna cleared her throat and said, rather loudly, that people were going to get the wrong idea. They separated, Murray blushing and Mark staring at the floor, as they said their final goodbyes. Murray stood at the gate until the jetway was retracted and the plane sealed up, then turned and walked away.

During a brief moment alone, he’d suggested to Mark that he come back to the boat and stay with them while Donna went to Hawaii alone. It was her dream; Mark had allergies that would make him miserable with all the tropical flowers. But, though it was obvious he was tempted, he had to say no. His wife wanted him to go, so he would go. Donna was in charge and always had been. It was the story of Murray’s life.

He drove home with the radio turned up loud, singing along with PCH and trying not to think. There was so very much he didn’t want to be thinking about when he reached the boat, and not nearly enough time to clear it from his mind or wipe it from his eyes.

His hopes that the guys would be asleep were dashed when he saw the lights on in the salon. It was vaguely flattering that they were waiting for him, and he knew they were. In the early days, when sex with his friends had been an occasional thing and he wasn’t yet sleeping in their room, it wasn’t uncommon to come home and find them already in bed. But since he became their equal in all things, they made a point of never going to bed without him. Murray hadn’t really noticed that, since he was rarely out late without them, but tonight it seemed obvious. Why else would they be watching TV at nine-thirty on a Saturday night when they could be making love?

“Hey, Murray,” Nick said when he came in. “How’d it go?”

“Yeah, did you have a good time?” Cody asked. “Looks like you bought something.”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, it—it was fine. I—I got a new shirt. Daddy picked it out. Said it went with my eyes or something.” It was a beautiful shirt, pale blue and tailored so it wouldn’t flap like a sail on his skinny form, and he thought there might be an occasion someday when he would be glad to have it.

“What did your mom say? Does she like it better than what you’re wearing?”

“I don’t know. I guess so,” he shrugged, staring at the floor. “She said it was too good for me.”

“Murray,” Nick said quietly. “You need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I just want to go to bed, okay?” He turned without waiting for an answer and went down to their cabin. Nick and Cody rose as one and followed.

Murray was putting the new shirt away in the hanging locker and didn’t turn around when they came in.

“Hey, Boz,” Cody began.

“I told you, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“How’s your dad? Did you two have a good time?”

“Yeah, we did. We spent a good half hour in _Huntington’s Books_ while Mother was in the restroom. They had a beautiful set of books on butterflies and moths, leather bound and illustrated with photographs of oil paintings of every known species, worldwide. It may sound funny, but lepidoptery is one of Daddy’s hobbies and he’s always wanted something like that.”

“Not so strange,” Cody said, ignoring Nick’s disgusted expression. “Lots of people are into bugs.”

“I guess it’s no stranger than your mom spending half an hour in a restroom in a mall,” Nick shrugged.

“She had a stomach ache,” he said shortly. “I’m going to go brush my teeth and then maybe we can go to sleep?”

“You bet,” Cody agreed. “Just one thing. Is she okay?”

“What?”

“Your mother. No one wants to get on a plane with an upset stomach, right? So was she feeling better?”

“She’s fine, all right?” he cried impatiently. “She’s always fine.” Before either of them could speak, he went into the head and slammed the door.

“Do we really want to push this?” Nick asked Cody after a long silence. “I mean, his folks are gone and it’s not likely to come up again for a long time, if ever.”

“That’s true, but he’s hurting right now, and besides,” Cody said, “how do you feel knowing he’s holding back what’s got to be just about his whole life story? He knows about my cheating father and you growing up with your grandmother, but it’s starting to look like we don’t know shit about him. You want to be sleeping with a guy who doesn’t trust you enough to tell you that he was raised by wolves?”

“Not wolves,” Murray said quietly, making them both jump. “Just a shrew.”

“Oh, gee, Boz,” Cody said, blushing hotly. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“No, I guessed that. Is that really what you guys think this is about? Trust? You really think that my hiding the fact that my mother hates me is about _you_?”

“Then what is it about?” Nick asked gently, moving around to hold him with one arm.

“What do you _think_?” he snapped. Then he smacked his forehead with one hand and rolled his eyes. “Wait, I know what you think. You think you’re screwing a stranger and suddenly you don’t like it. Well, I’m sorry about that, but it’s hardly my fault that it took you this long to notice.”

“Notice what?” Nick asked, struggling not to shout. Murray tried to pull away and he held on tighter.

“I think I know,” Cody said gently. “You’ve never mentioned you mother before, have you? All those happy childhood stories you tell about your dad and Melba—I can’t remember you ever saying a word about your mom.”

“There was no reason to.”

“That’s not all, either. I’m trying to remember a story that didn’t take place over a holiday and I’m not coming up with one. Does that mean something, Murray?”

“Cody, stop it. It doesn’t matter, okay? They’re gone and it’s over. I just want to go to bed. That is, if you don’t mind sleeping with a total stranger. Otherwise I’ll go sleep in the office.”

“Murray, come on, man. We want you in here, okay?” Nick sighed. “You must know that. But we want you to tell us when something’s bothering you. You’ve never let either of us get away with not telling you anything.”

“That’s right,” Cody said. “I’ve never known anyone more dedicated to the idea of talking out problems than Murray Bozinsky. I guess we just never expected to see you upholding a double standard.”

“But it’s not a problem,” he insisted. “It’s ancient history. _Personal_ ancient history.”

“So now we don’t share personal stuff?” Nick asked. “If that’s the new rule, then maybe you don’t want to sleep with us.”

“Fine,” Murray said. “I could use the peace and quiet.” He wrenched himself away from them and turned toward the door. Nick grabbed him roughly, his hand folding all the way around Murray’s skinny bicep, and spun him back into his arms.

“No way, babe. You have a story to tell and we want to hear it, okay? That’s all there is to this. You talk and we listen until we understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand,” he said, trying halfheartedly to pull away again.

“Except you think your mom hates you,” Cody said.

“You met her. What do _you_ think?”

“I think you probably have some issues to work out.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Nick said. “There’s really just one thing that I want to know, though. You set my mind at ease there and I’ll let the rest go.”

“And your peace of mind is my first priority,” Murray said, laying on the sarcasm in a way that was worthy of his mother.

“Yeah, whatever. Just tell me that your dad was wrong about you living with us because you’re afraid all women are like your mom. Tell me that you’re here because you want to be and I’ll drop the whole thing.”

“I—I don’t know what to say to that,” he whispered brokenly. “I didn’t know when Daddy asked me and I still don’t. It’s—it’s my whole life, guys. It’s all I’ve ever known. How can I tell what I might have done or who I might have been if my parents had been entirely different people?” His chest hitched as he spoke and he choked painfully on the last word, finally going limp and letting Nick lead him to the bed.

“It’s okay, baby,” Nick murmured, sitting down and holding him close. “Family stuff is the worst; we know that. The thing is, we kind of got used to thinking of ourselves as your family. We thought we knew where you came from, and I, at least, thought it didn’t matter that much.”

“It _doesn’t_ ,” he insisted, though his burning tears said otherwise. “You _are_ my family.”

“Then trust us,” Cody said, sitting on his other side, the two of them bracketing him a way that could be either restrictive or secure, and tonight was both. Murray drew a deep breath that came out a sob and began quietly to speak.

“I told you that she hates me and it’s as simple as that. She always has. I—I’ve just never been good enough.”

“Murray, that’s crazy,” Nick said and Cody gave him a nudge behind Murray’s back.

“Let him talk,” Cody whispered.

“There’s nothing else to say.”

“Yeah, Boz, I think there is. No one could say that you weren’t good enough. Everything you’ve accomplished, all the amazing work you’ve done, any mother would be proud to have a son like you.”

“Any mother but mine, I guess. The first thing I remember about her is being about two years old and wanting to help her in the garden. She was planting flowers and I wanted to help dig the holes. She was using one of those little trowels and when I reached out to pick up a plant, she hit me with it.”

“She hit you?” Nick repeated, shocked.

“Smacked me across the back of the hand with the edge. My dad had to come home from work and take me to the ER for stitches. Here, you can still kind of see the scar.” He held out his right hand, pale, slender, trembling just a little, and for the first time his friends noticed the very faint line that snaked across it.

“Holy fuck,” Nick breathed, grasping that once-wounded hand and holding it tightly. He glanced at Cody, who sat opened-mouthed, looking as if he’d been slapped. When Murray glanced at him, he closed his mouth with a snap and tried to smile.

“Why didn’t your mom take you to the hospital?” Nick asked once he’d regained his composure.

“She was too busy. She had to finish the garden.”

“So,” Cody said, fishing for a way to move on, “she didn’t like you helping around the house?”

“It wasn’t that simple. Guys, I’m really tired. Can I at least lie down?”

“Sure, of course,” Cody said, standing quickly. Nick moved a little more slowly, reluctant to let go of his hand, but when he did, Murray was quick to undress and get into bed. Cody crawled under the covers beside him and lay down on his side, holding Murray against his chest. Murray was on his back, his face turned toward Nick, who picked up his left hand and held it.

“She didn’t like anything I did,” he whispered. “Starting when I was four years old, I had to wash the dishes. It was my job. I had to stand on a kitchen chair to reach, and every day, every time, I had to do them all at least twice because she’d find a spot on a glass or something stuck to a plate. When I started school, it was homework first and then dishes. On weekends, I had to mop.”

“But your grades must have made her happy,” Nick suggested. He knew what the answer must be, but Murray’s heart was a festering wound that needed to be lanced and this was the best way he could think of.

“Not really. I always got As, but she didn’t pay any attention. It was only an issue when I was sick and didn’t want to go. Then I got lectures about how important my education was. Sometimes I’d do my class work in the nurse’s office, in between napping and throwing up. It was against the rules—sick kids were supposed to go home—but she wouldn’t come and get me and they couldn’t make her.”

“And your dad wouldn’t, either?”

“They didn’t have his number at work, and I wasn’t allowed to give it to them. I had to say I didn’t know it to keep them from going behind her back.”

“But he knew, right?” Nick pressed. Glancing at Cody, he saw so much pain on his friend’s face that he knew it was all on him. Cody hadn’t spoken in a while and wasn’t likely to any time soon.

“Of course he knew. He lived in our house. And he tried, he really did. But standing up for us just made things worse.”

“Us? You and—Melba?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I tried to help her as much as I could, but we were just little kids. At first it was easier on her because she was a girl. Mother could dress her up and play with her hair and buy her dolls—and tell me what a huge disappointment I was, just by being a boy. But by the time Melba was six or seven, she was so gorgeous that Mother didn’t like her anymore. She started buying her ugly clothes and hacking off her hair—anything she could think of to hold her back. And Melba was punished for everything, just like I was. If we were reading, we should be outside getting fresh air. If we went outside, it was too hot or too cold or we should be doing homework. And before you ask, I know there isn’t homework in grade school. Mother made it up for us, and then gave us grief for all the time it took her.”

“Is that why you wanted to go to college so early?”

“Yes, but I would have anyway. I was qualified.”

“No one said you weren’t,” Nick said, kissing him softly.

“So we tried to look after each other. One time, in the third grade, I brought home a trigonometry test with a perfect score, except I only got four out of five on the extra credit. She was beating me with a belt, this big heavy thing she got at Goodwill, and I was screaming…” He paused, sniffled, and rubbed his eyes again, smiling faintly as Cody’s arms tightened around him. “Melba went in the kitchen and got one of those little jelly glasses we used for every day and dropped it on the floor. Mother beat her for it, but she was already tired so Melba only got five or six whacks, and it cut my beating in half. I paid her back a few days later, when Mother was beating her for being complimented by a stranger at the grocery store. This was right before Mother started the campaign to make her unattractive. I slammed the front door so she’d hit me instead. Then Melba started playing with her ceramic cat collection and Mother didn’t know where to turn. She settled for slapping us both across the face and sending us to our room.”

“Room, like singular?”

“Yeah. We had to share so Mother could have a sewing room. It was okay, though. It gave us more opportunities to protect each other, and since we were always being sent to our room, we were never lonely. It might have been a problem if we’d finished growing up there, but I went to college when I was thirteen and Melba was only eleven.”

“What did she do when you were gone? It must have been hard on her, being home alone with your mom.”

“She left right after I did. She went to Denver to live with Daddy’s parents, Nana and Pop. They died a few years ago, but that was her home base all through high school and college. We both had to go home to our parents for vacations, though, and that was the only time we saw each other. For months, my last memory of her was watching her cry while Mother made me burn my things in the back yard.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t allowed to leave anything at home when I went away to school. Everything I couldn’t fit into my boxes and suitcases, she piled in the backyard and poured gasoline on. I had to light the match. But I think Melba was more upset than I was. The room was so empty, even after Mother set up her scrapbooking tables in my half.”

“Good God,” Nick said. There was another, louder sniffle, and they realized Cody was crying. Murray reached back and patted his face tenderly.

“Don’t, Cody, please. It’s all right.”

“No it isn’t,” Cody gasped, scrubbing his tears away viciously. “Murray, how could your father put up with that? Why didn’t he help you?”

“There wasn’t much he could do. We don’t get divorced in my family; that was never an option. And he wasn’t home for most of the beatings and such. We didn’t tell him everything, either, because it just upset Mother more.”

“Jesus,” Cody whispered. “Jesus Christ.”

“Honestly, I left home so early, it seems like a small part of my life. But I never learned to feel good about myself. Thirteen years and dozens of vacations were enough to convince me that I’m the stupidest, clumsiest, most worthless human being ever conceived. And—and every time I talk to her, even over the phone, she reminds me in every way she can.”

“But why?” Nick asked. The last thing he didn’t understand, and possibly the only one that mattered. “Why did she even have kids if she wasn’t going to love them?”

“I’m not sure. I think she wanted us at first. And there was the Catholic thing, too. I’m pretty sure my parents stopped having sex after Melba was born, though whether that was because she didn’t want to or because she was afraid of getting pregnant again, I don’t know. But Daddy told me some things before I went into the Army. He wanted me to understand, I guess. He said she had dreams.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Nick muttered, and this time Murray stroked his cheek, struggling to smile for him.

“She always got good grades, too, and she wanted to go to college, but her parents believed that higher education was wasted on girls. They were very old fashioned that way, you know. So they married her off when she was barely out of high school. She never even had a job. But she was smart and she wanted to be a scientist, like me. I think that’s why she discouraged me so much—because she was jealous of my mind and my opportunities, the same way she was jealous of Melba’s beauty. She demanded perfection from me, but the better I did, the more she hated me because she wanted what I had for herself. She almost didn’t let me go to college, you know. She had all kinds of reasons why I didn’t deserve it, but the board of my high school got together and insisted. They didn’t want me there wasting my time. But I’m sure if I hadn’t gotten a full scholarship, it never would have happened.”

“Oh, Murray,” Cody sighed, squeezing him harder.

“She tried harder to keep Melba out of college. She didn’t get to go, so why should her daughter? Nana and Pop pushed that through, and paid for most of it. Mother never forgave them, either. She wouldn’t let Daddy go to their funerals, even.”

“Wouldn’t let him?” Nick repeated. “His own parents? How could she stop him?”

“After thirty years of marriage, I think he got was just too tired to keep fighting her. He’s just so tired.” Murray’s voice broke again and Nick began idly stroking his arm with his fingertips, tickling and distracting him as Murray choked back a sob.

“Baby, I gotta ask,” he said, instinctively using that endearment that was normally only spoken when Murray was sick or badly hurt. But tonight he sort of was. “How can you forgive your dad? You were so eager to see him—didn’t you know it was going to be like this? That she’d torture you and he’d let her?”

“Of course I knew,” he said, pulling his hand away from Nick to rub his eyes again. “But she—she does this thing where she pretends to be sick so she can be the center of attention and we’re supposed to drop everything and take care of her. She did it that first day, pretending to have a headache so she could go back to the hotel and make Daddy go with her, only he didn’t go. And today, at the mall, she kept hiding out in the Ladies’ and we were supposed to send employees in to check on her, or at least stand outside the door, wringing our hands, but we had a good time instead. Every time she tries it when we’re together, I make him ignore her and then it’s fun. We talk about our work and look at books and reminisce about the good times. She’ll make him pay for it when they’re alone, but he says it’s worth it. He says he owes me.”

“He owes you more than that.”

“Don’t, Nick. He’s a good man and I love him. I need to love at least one of my parents.”

“Yeah, of course you do,” Nick said, giving in before he made Murray cry again.

“I didn’t tell you what happened today,” he said, and it was too late. He was crying and they couldn’t stop him. They could only listen and watch.

“It’s okay, babe. Tell us what happened,” Cody murmured, brushing Murray’s tears away with his fingers.

“It’s so stupid, just like everything else. I mean, I know how she feels, I know I can’t please her, but I have to keep trying. So ever since she got here, she’s been talking about this camera that she wanted for Hawaii. She doesn’t like her old one, but the one she wants is so expensive, Daddy wouldn’t get it for her. She’s been nagging him about it since Christmas, but she spends so much, they’re always broke as it is. If she’d slow down on the crafts and scrapbooking and everything else, she could have bought it months ago, but she won’t. She wants _everything_ , and museum curators just don’t make that much.”

“So you bought her the camera, didn’t you?” Nick asked without judgment.

“Well, after I bought Daddy the lepidoptery books, it seemed fair. Although she didn’t know about that. She was in the restroom, and I asked the store to have them sent to him in Chicago. He won’t need them on the trip, anyway. So we ended up in a camera shop and she showed us the one she wanted. She was taking all these shots at Daddy for not getting it for her, and when I offered, she jumped at it. It was so calculated, so obvious that she was manipulating me, but I thought it would be worth it just to please her. Just to have my mother smile at me one time.”

“And did she?”

“Yes. For a few seconds. Then she started complaining about it being too hard to use, and she should have gotten a different one. I offered to exchange it, we were right outside the store, and she just— _exploded_. First I was showing off, acting like a big-shot and making her feel poor, and then I was trying to take it back, like I was going to return it instead of actually doing the exchange. And then she started crying, right there in the middle of the mall, just _shouting_ about how no one loved her and we were all out to make her miserable.”

“Murray, I just have to ask,” Nick said quietly, “how much did you pay for this camera?”

“Seven hundred dollars,” he confessed, clearly ashamed. His friends were surprised, but only because Murray never spent that much on anything. Even the most expensive pieces of equipment in the office were bought on sale, and the really advanced combinations, the pieces that would have cost a fortune, were cobbled together out of junk. Nick and Cody had always wondered why he did that when they could afford better, but they understood a little bit now. A mother that selfish would never have paid to support her children’s hobbies and interests. He must have been cobbling his needs together out of nothing all his life.

“I’m sorry, guys. I know I shouldn’t have spent so much without checking with you first, but she—for just a second, she was so happy.”

“No, Murray, it’s okay,” Cody said, kissing him softly. “Nick paid more than that redecorating the interior of the _Mimi_ and it still looks like crap.”

“Always putting down my ship,” Nick muttered. Then he kissed Murray, too. “But he’s right, baby. You can buy presents for your mom if you want to.”

“But it was a total waste,” he cried, turning his face against Cody’s chest. “She was so angry with me, not just accusing me of trying to buy her love, but actually telling me in front of the entire Westside Pavilion Mall that I _couldn’t_.”

“Oh, Murray,” Cody sighed. “Her love’s not worth having, is it?”

“She’s my _mother_ ,” he said, gasping for breath.

“And I bet she kept the camera,” Nick added. Murray nodded helplessly.

“She didn’t like it once she had it, and she hated me for giving it to her, but she kept it all right. And if I know her, and I do, she’ll leave it on the plane, or lose it at the hotel, or drop it in a volcano, and that’ll be my fault, too.”

“Murray…”

“She took away my Teddy bear when I was five, Nick. She made me burn my first microscope. When my dad let me go to science camp, she sent my cat to the pound while I was gone.” He was crying hard now, unable to control himself, and his friends could barely understand him. But they understood enough. “She only let me have one birthday party in my life, and not only did she tell the other kids’ parents not to buy presents, she publicly humiliated the other kids for _not_ bringing presents. Then she threw the cake on the floor, and when I cried, she sent me to my room and chased my friends out of the house. Ten little six year olds were milling around our front lawn in their best clothes in the rain, and their parents weren’t due to pick them up for two hours. None of them ever spoke to me again. _That’s_ why I never had friends growing up. She made me a freak in every way. She made me a freak and she probably got my cat killed and I hate her, but she’s my _mother_. I—I need my mother to love me, and she doesn’t, and she won’t, and I must really be the single most _worthless_ person _ever_.”

“No, Murray,” Nick said gently. “No, that isn’t true. You’re smart and kind and adorable, and we love you very much.”

“That’s right,” Cody said, clearing his throat and swallowing hard. He didn’t say that he would never look at his brilliant little lover in quite the same way again, but he was thinking it. He would never again fail to see the hurt in those eyes that nothing could wipe away. “Murray, why do you like us?”

“Why?” he asked, making himself look up at last. “Why—who wouldn’t?”

“That’s what we say about you, buddy, but it doesn’t seem to fly. So tell me, why do you like us? Why are we such a big deal that a hot shot inventor like you would live on a boat in a nothing little town that doesn’t even have a decent electronics company, just to be with us?”

“Well—I—I love you. You’re kind and sweet and sexy and anyone would want to be with you. Both of you. Everyone _does_ want to be with you.”

“And we still chose you,” Cody said. “We never let anyone else into our relationship, you know. For five years, it was just Nick and me. But after New Orleans, after we spent that night with you, nothing was ever quite right between us. We were never really complete again until we got you back.”

“But I’m so—so _useless_.”

“No, baby, you’re not,” Cody insisted, stroking his hair back and kissing his sweaty forehead firmly.

“But my _mother_ says I am. How do you stop believing what your _mother_ tells you all your life?”

“I don’t know. But I think a good start would be listening to the people that you actually love and respect. You like us better than you do your mom, right?” he added. It was a risk, but Murray chuckled and a little of the tension went out of the room.

“Of course I do. You guys are the best thing that ever happened to me. I—I love you more than anything. Maybe—maybe even more than I do my dad. You sure do a better job of protecting me. He’s not a bad man, you know, but he’s so scared of her, he’d deny Christ three times before dawn to stay on her good side.”

“We’ve always tried to protect you,” Nick said. “And from now on, we’re protecting you from your mom, too. All that shit we saw yesterday and today—that’s over with. She doesn’t do that in front of us anymore, and I don’t care if it gets your dad in trouble.”

“No, Nick. You can’t talk back to my mother. It just makes things worse.”

“Not for you. Murray, you’d expect us to take a dog or a cat away from someone who was mistreating it, right? You’d call the cops if you saw a woman beating her child the way you were beaten, wouldn’t you?”

Murray nodded and he went on.

“Well, you don’t think we’d do any less for you, do you? Murray, you’re our family. And we’re yours. You don’t need that shit, and you’re not taking it anymore. You just don’t deserve it, and if you don’t believe that—well, you will. We’re gonna convince you if it takes the rest of our lives.”

“No,” he said shakily, wiping his eyes. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Nick. I never should have told you all this. It’s not your problem, and I don’t—I don’t want you worrying about it. Don’t—just don’t worry about me.”

Cody started to say something and Nick hushed him with a look. Murray was still rubbing his face with his fingertips and Nick rose up on one elbow, kissing his wet mouth, taking him totally by surprise. His eyes flew open, and then Cody was pulling him away from Nick, rolling him onto his side and dragging Murray’s leg up over his hip. Murray pressed against him, transferring the kiss from Nick’s mouth to his without missing a beat. Cody’s hand was on Murray’s naked ass, holding him close, rubbing their cocks together as they both grew hard. Murray got his arms around Cody’s body and held on tight, anchored to the light, by the light, that was this man, his lover, who loved him.

Then Nick was stretching out behind him, pressing against his back, kissing and biting his neck and shoulders. His hand moved down Murray’s bony ribs, over his jutting hip, and gripped Cody’s hand briefly, as if sealing a deal. Murray yearned toward him, but was unable to separate himself from Cody’s strong hands and seeking tongue. It was a great relief to suddenly feel Nick’s fingers, slick with lube, probing at his tight entrance. For the first time since he learned of his parents’ impending visit, Murray felt safe and secure, sandwiched between these two strong men who must love him, who couldn’t possibly be lying, who had nothing to gain; who were, quite simply, too _good_ to just be using him for his money or his body.

Wrapped around Cody, Nick buried deep inside him, his body hot against Murray’s back, nothing else in the world mattered. He must be loveable, valuable, worth the trouble of knowing, because these men loved and valued and _knew_ him. If he could keep this good feeling all the time, he would never think of his mother again. In fact, he didn’t want to be thinking about her now. He grabbed a fistful of Cody’s golden hair and kissed him hard, felt Nick’s teeth sharp on his shoulder, and every other thought fled his mind.

They pushed and pulled him, Nick finding his sweet spot and pounding it forcefully while Cody’s hands wandered, tickled and stroked. He writhed in their mutual embrace, his body soft and pliable, drowning in their warmth and love. So far gone was he that he missed what they were doing when they made him come first, gasping and sobbing in Cody’s mouth as he bucked between them.

Shivering, boneless with release, he lay still and felt them making love to him, and to each other through him. Although it wasn’t the first time they had done this, and it wouldn’t be the last, it was still the single sweetest moment of his life.

Murray slept peacefully that night, the sleep of the valued and loved, and in the morning that feeling was not forgotten.


End file.
